Symptomatically and jaggedly pluralizing the personal psychological
affects of a sudden all-encompassing disillusionment, while intricately
stratifying a diverse bombastic barrage, literally interjecting his film
with bellicose doses of testosterone, Michaël R. Roskam takes Bullhead and cacophonically synthesizes a man with his husbandry, as he tries whatever he can to surreptitiously distend.
An event. A transformation. Perseverance. Sublimation. Shock. Disintegration.
The wind in the willows.
Or
the cyclone in the spruces in this instance. Jacky Vanmarsenille
(Matthias Schoenaerts) is one volatile powder keg lacking the
deflammatory passions which may have softened the blow.
But apart from scintillatingly nocturnalizing a tragic character study, Bullhead
complacently, cerebrally, and chaotically economizes its 'subject
matter,' potently intensifying a somewhat underrepresented particular
submergence, while using it to indirectly comment upon Belgian social
interactions.
If Mr. Vanmarsenille represents the
local, then the local is diversified, then regionalized (the regional
possessing a nationalistic nuance), and then subjectively traumatized,
historicized, and atemporalized, while the film retains a selective
degree of objectivity (which dissipates near the end), the catalyst of
said trauma triumvirately functioning within the local, regional, and
national domains, with romantic, familial, comic and veterinary issues
exhaustively adorning its multiplicity.
Mr. Roskam knows how to get things done (screenplay by Michaël R. Roskam).
It offers a potential counterpoint to Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler,
one film focused primarily on a individual's parenting struggles within
an environment theoretically dominated by the personal, the other's
less subject-centric caricature working within one hypothetically
attempting to produce a less hostile bilateral congregation, both
lamenting static subjective growth.
Stress. They're both, full, of stress.
I recommend Bullhead for lovers of multidimensional cinema but be prepared cause it's rather dark.
I
kind of think of it as a stubborn grouchy emasculated subdued rowdy
intellectual action film to which you must pay strict attention.
Calamitizing the maintenance of an ideal.
Which blindly obscures what's beautiful.
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